


Fool For You

by orphan_account



Category: Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types, Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Jace Is A Smitten Softie, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2016-08-29
Packaged: 2018-08-11 19:55:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7905583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Jace crashes his van and Simon takes it upon himself to help him brush up on his driving skills he did not count on the fact that Jace could be such a supremely <i>slow</i> student.<br/>Or, in which Simon gets a partner in crime, a regular supply of coffee, a lot of confusing moments, a proper training in deflecting his terrible friends teasing and a possible heart condition, because love is certainly not what it is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fool For You

**Author's Note:**

> Guess who finally finished this monster? Me, it's me, I'm so glad.  
> So much thanks to Ella for gifting me with this idea.
> 
> Warning for the description of a panic attack. In my opinion, it's pretty mild, but it's very explicitly there.

Simon stares at the image spreading before him blankly, refusing to let it sink in.

"You crashed my van," he whispers tonelessly and reaches out to the first possible thing he can brace himself on. Right now, that happens to be Magnus, who steadies him and, if Simon can trust his peripheral vision, looks to be torn between amusement and mild annoyance. 

"Simon," Clary says from somewhere behind him, "I'm sure Jace had _some_ reason for..." She trails off and messes up her hair when she sinks her hand into it. Simon turns to her and hopes that she can feel his disbelief prickling on her skin.

"He _crashed_ my van, Clary! My _van_!" He doesn't think his lungs have the capacity to help him convey the gravity of the situation. "Do you know how fucking long it took me to convince my mom of the value of this thing? Honestly, I could just-" He drags in a sharp breath. Points at Jace. "This might be the worst thing you have ever done."

"What about that time when he cut off Hodge's hand?" Alec pipes up.  
Isabelle puts her hands on her hips. "Or when he snuck out to meet up with Raphael, ended up trapped in a coffin and the first thing he did when you freed him was almost putting a stake through your heart?"  
"Once he bet all of us for fifty bucks in a poker game," Clary contributes but at least she has the virtue to bite her lip and look vaguely ashamed when Simon glares at her.

He concedes, though. "Clearly the guy has a lot of social shortcomings, we are all well aware of that. But this one-" Inhale. Exhale. Jace is still staring at the painfully gigantic dent in Simon's vehicle, in bewilderment. "This one is actually fixable." 

He tries to keep appearing outraged, already regretting what he's about to say. "You and me, buddy. I'm going to teach you how to drive."

*

"This is ridiculous," is the first thing Jace says when he takes a seat in the - newly patched up and thanks to Clary possibly even more awesome looking - van nine days later. "I am perfectly capable of driving a car."  
Simon pulls the door shut carefully behind him, already working on smoothing out the wrinkles of frustration that interactions with Jace tend to deepen. "Yes, I'm sure the owners of the four cars you've crashed _while I've known you_ would whole-heartedly agree."

Jace furrows his brow, fold his arms in front of his chest. "There has been an increase in cars I've had to steal since I met Clary and you."

Simon sighs. "Stop victim-blaming and lets start with the basics."

-

It's really nothing Simon hadn't expected. It's a little suprising how intently Jace listens and watches, his eyes tracking Simon's movements to a point where Simon wonders if he's stopped blinking and if there's grounds for concern. But otherwise Jace smirks when Simon stumbles over his own words, teases whenever there's an opportunity, and ridicules Simon's choice of music. 

("Shut up, Jace, two weeks ago you didn't even know who Ke$ha _is_." "Ah yes, I've been meaning to thank you for letting me listen to your Never Tell Clary About This Or I Will Literally Kill You, I Mean It mix." "You _stole_ my iPod, don't make it seem like it was anything but a hostage situation.")

The only moment that truly catches Simon off guard is when Jace turns the key in the ignition and the motor dies with a splutter.  
There is kind of an awkward silence when Jace fishes his phone out of his pocket and Simon presses a hand against his thigh, his fingers curling inward, nails sharp through his jeans.

"Damn." Jace puts down his phone and balances it on his thighs while he pulls out his stele.  
"Everything okay?" Simon asks, because he hates silences. And not knowing things. That might also be a factor.  
"Yeah." It comes out just a beat too quick. "It's Maryse. They're back from Montreal and, shit," he interrupts himself when his phone drops to the floor. Simon has never seen any of the Shadowhunters he knows be clumsy like this. "I totally forgot they were coming."

Simon raises a hand as if to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose, halting mid motion realizing there's nothing there for the five hundredth time. There is a panic in Jace's voice that is just on this side of subtle. Simon has heard it in Clary and Maureen's voices before when they're talking about jackasses on the street harrassing them, and in Jocelyn's when she talks about Valentine.  
He has no clue how this fits, though.

"I can drive you, if you want," he says, inspite of himself. He never did know what to do to comfort his other friends without knowing what the problem is. Jace looks up like he's just now registering that he's sitting in a working car. When he meets Simon's eyes there is nothing vulnerable about him. Instead Simon gets a sneer in response.  
"As touching as that offer is, I think I'm better off with... a more conventional option."  
"Like what, taking the subway?" He links his fingers together under Jace's gaze. "Yeah, Clary tells me how _thrilling_ those trips always are."

Something changes in Jace's expression. Then, faster than Simon can blink, he opens the door. "Goodbye, Simon."

And just when Simon wants to sink backwards into his seat and close his eyes, Jace turns around, his phone and his stele distranctingly bright in the darkness. "Let's do this again sometime." Then he's gone.

Simon leans back.  
He breathes out. 

*

He doesn't honestly expect Jace to take him up on a second lesson. Jace still kind of doesn't like him and Simon has mostly cooled down from the whole van crashing incident. (Not that he isn't going to bring it up the moment Jace tries to make him feel guilty for something.)

But one week and two days after he stormed out on him because Simon can keep neither his temper nor his mouth in check, Jace does call.  
When he picks up Simon identifies one of the voices in the background as Isabelle's immediately. That does explain this some.

"So," Jace starts, without any indication that he's making this call voluntarily, "when do you have time?"  
"Um." He can't say that he has no plans for the whole weekend. That's probably exactly the opening Jace wants him to give. "Tomorrow afternoon is good for me. Is Isabelle making you do this?"

There's a pause. Then, "She threatened to invite Raphael into my room." He sounds guilty about saying it, like Isabelle is standing right next to him, grinning gleefully. It puts Simon off, how easy it is for him to envision.

"Then I guess they don't leave us another choice."  
"I guess they don't."

And oh, Simon _really_ loathes awkward silences.

"I can come by at three."  
"Great."

When Simon hangs up he notices that Jace didn't even ask him to come to the Institute instead.

*

Their second lesson is not much different from the first. Except of course for the fact that Jace shows up with a cup of coffee that he hands over to Simon immediately.  
"Clary seems to think coffee is one of the major food groups," he says when Simon looks at him with the most bewildered expression since he found out that ghosts are a real thing. "She's worried you're not getting enough of an intake."

Simon takes a sip and doesn't say anything. Instead he opens the car door and straps himself into the passenger seat.  
"Let's do the timewarp again," he hums to himself and curses his mom for rediscovering this damn musical for herself every other week.

Jace, of course, is all runed up and picks up on Simon's humming with a perfectly arched eyebrow. "Tell me, do you ever say things that make sense?" Simon fastens the seatbelt with a satisfying _click_ and doesn't answer. Jace may excel at pushing his buttons, but since they've known each other Simon is sure that he has heard every variation of the 'You Live In The Modern World And Clearly Getting No References At All Is So Much Cooler Than Actually Watching A Movie For Once' jab, so that he figures he's built up a slow immunity.

"Let's do some crash-preventing," he instructs instead.

It goes well for a while.  
Emotionally, at least. 

Jace's eyebrows are furrowed in concentration and every now and again his tongue darts out to lick his lips before he changes gears.

The driving, though? Slow.  
Slower than Simon anticipated, if he's honest with himself. He remembers Clary sitting on his bed, her hair done up loosely and her feet sticking out of her slightly too short pajama pants, even though it had been three in the afternoon ("Fray-Lewis solidarity," she had smiled and squeezed his hand, her skin still warm from the sun outside, he remembers never wanting to leave that moment.) The words had come out jumbled and jagged, talking about Jace had still been a struggle for her then (he remembers it hurting his heart to see Clary, usually so well articulated, grasping at any word that would cover what she wanted to say.) 

"He's the best Shadowhunter of his generation," she had told him, slowly, carefully, like that is surprising information. "Maybe even the best of several generations before and after him." 

Simon can believe that easily.  
So the fact that there isn't even a little bit of a learning curve from the first lesson? Kind of unsettling.

He grits his teeth and swallows his frustration to show Jace what he's doing wrong, causing the motor to die in a rather spectacular manner for the third time. He should never become a teacher.

"Maybe we should have started with some theory," he sighs and tips back his head to knock back the rest of his coffee. When he puts the cup back into the holder, Jace is staring at him again, in that manner of his that makes Simon dizzy . It's a rather... intense change to his usual disinterest and mocking grins whenever Simon opens his mouth.

"I know how to drive, theoretically." Simon looks at him with a raised eyebrow. It's not as flawless a movement as Shadowhunters seem to inherit it on a biological level, but it's enough to lure more words out of Jace's mouth. "There are some demons that just beg for a running over."

"Then why exactly did I talk myself hoarse last time, trying to explain this to you?" Jace smirks, and oh, that never fails being infuriating.  
"Maybe I like hearing you spout things that I already know about. It gives a certain sense of..." His eyebrows shoot up for a second. "Superiority."

"Right." Simon nods. "You're all about keeping in control."  
Jace blinks.

*

For their third lesson Jace is in a good mood. He shows up with coffee and an expression that actually looks serene, when Simon squints. He's already sitting in the van when Jace throws open the door and hands Simon his cup.

Then he gets into the driver's seat and sheds his leather vest, his shirt short to follow. Simon jumps when it lands in his lap.  
"Try not to touch the demon venom that's on there," Jace advises and turns the key in the ignition.

"Um..." Simon says intelligently. "What the hell was that?"

Jace turns to him while he pulls out onto the road, which should probably distress Simon, but he is very much distracted by focusing intently on picking the shirt off his lap without touching the grimy spots.  
"We just finished off six Raveners," he says, and Simon is sure that if he looked up right now Jace's eyes would be blazing.  
"So, you don't have any other clothes? Or is this is just a chance for you to live out your exhibitionist streak?"

Jace scoffs. "I would have been late if I had gone back and changed."  
And what is he supposed to say to that?

" _Please_ focus on the road," he pleads instead of replying and Jace swerves to the left, tree branches clattering against the window in protest.  
"Mother of go-" His throat constricts and cuts him off mid-word. He keels over and takes a deep breath before straightening up again.

Without taking his eyes off the road, Jace asks, "Still can't say it?" There is no trace of mockery in his voice.  
Simon eyes him warily, keeping his eyes firmly above Jace's collarbones, but his voice is purposefully cheerful when he says, "Getting to the o, is progres. We're halfway there."

Jace doesn't answer, asks him what they should practice today instead.

*

"So, what you're telling me", Maureen says slowly and looks at him over her straw, "is that the guy who supposedly _hates you_ ran with poison on his clothes, as to not make you wait, just to take off his shirt-"  
"To toss it at me." She smiles gleefully.  
" _Just_ to take off his shirt and then encourage you to talk to him about your day-"  
"His exact words were, 'What did _you_ do today, while other people were busy saving the world?'"  
"-and start laughing at your jokes-"  
"It's more like disdainful scoffing."  
"-instead of calling or texting to say that he's going to be late to your 'driving lessons'?"

Simon huffs. "He was probably all high from the demon slaying, I bet he didn't even think about it." Maureen laughs, low and amused, the laugh Simon is helpless against.  
"If that's what you wanna go with," she gives in. Simon huffs a second time.

*

A week later Jace pulls into a random driveway, where he insists that the owners of the house aren't home.  
Simon looks over his shoulder nervously nonetheless. 

"Is this trespassing," he asks while Jace pulls the keys out of the ignition, "I feel like this is trespassing. Also, what are we doing here?"

Jace turns his head, one hand already on the door handle. His eyes are burning. "We're going for a walk. Don't you have night vision?"  
He pulls himself out of the van in one smooth motion, with Simon stumbling out behind him.

"We really prefer not calling it 'night vision'," he says, trailing behind Jace in confusion. Is this the part where Jace reveals himself to having been evil all along and getting rid of Simon because he's the only one with super smell and an encyclopedic knowledge of horror movies and every tv show betrayal reveal ever recorded?  
Somehow Simon finds himself doubting that.

"Why exactly are we going for a walk in the suburbs? In the middle of the night?" Simon swallows. "With a... really creepy church standing there at the end of the street?" He comes to a stop in the middle of the road. 

Jace, already a few feet ahead, turns around with a skip in his step.  
"We're going to the creepy church at the end of the street, aren't we?"  
"I am." Jace tosses Simon the keys. "You couldn't if I wanted you to."  
"So warm and friendly. I feel appreciated," Simon mumbles and twirls the keys around his fingers, faster than the average human would.

They reach the church and Jace hops over the gate with an ease that still seems alien to Simon.  
"I need you to keep watch for me."  
"Watch?" Simon asks weakly, because that does not sound good on any of the levels of life Simon is wrapped up in at this point. "Who do I need to watch out for?" 

Jace is traipsing towards the church in his usual menacing, yet careless manner and he's not _answering_.  
"Am I gonna die?" Simon calls after him, when he slips through the door, which is magically unlocked.

"Fucking blond Shadowhunter," Simon sits down on a rock, his elbows on his knees, "only ever talking when he feels like it."

He waits for twenty impossibly boring minutes before Jace turns up on the roof, spins around and jumps, landing in an almost soundless crouch, his hair tousled and his eyes even brighter, which Simon hadn't thought was possible.  
"Alright, let's go."

"Let's _go_?" Simon almost kicks him in the shin when he propels himself over the fence and grins down at Simon. "No."  
"No? You want to stay in the land of the two point five children, PTA meetings and lemonades in gardens every Sunday?"  
"If you don't tell me what's going on, I might." He defiantly raises his chin and tucks his hands between his arms and sides. Jace mirrors his gestures, in a decidedly more amused manner.  
"I don't think you mean that." 

And that actually makes Simon smile.  
"Yes, but how are you gonna get away," he pulls out the keys, letting them dangle from his fingers, "when I have these?"  
"Ah yes," Jace laments, leaning in, "how will I ever be able to take them now that they have such a big and strong keeper, that I could only dream of overwhelming?"

Simon pulls his hand away automatically, the movement feeling disconnected, because he's short of breath like he hasn't been in a long time. His brain might be in need of a reboot. Because right here. In the dim light of street lanterns, by an old, rotten church, with Simon in front of him and his arms unfolding in a split second, Jace looks... happy. Free. Blindingly so.

He's beautiful, Simon thinks, and trips on a twig.

*

Simon slams the door shut with gusto and yanks down his seatbelt. He avoids looking at anything else. "Let's get this over with."

Jace doesn't move a muscle. Not that Simon would dare expect anything else. "What happened?"  
" _Nothing_!" He can't believe he actually thought that being with Jace would help his mood. The guy does have an unusual knack for doing the exact thing that is going to agitate Simon the most.  
"Who was that, behind you in the doorway?"

Simon clenches his jaw, grits his teeth. "It's, forget it, it's nothing. Sibling stuff, you wouldn't understa-" He breaks off and allows himself a sideways glance at Jace who has rearranged himself in the driver's seat and is staring Simon down with an unconvinced expression. Simon huffs out a breath. "Well, I guess you do understand. Sorry, I guess. Sometimes I forget that not all people are Clary." 

The muscles in Jace's forearm twitch under his runes. "Yeah I just bet you do."  
Simon decides to ignore him because the frustration is coiling itself around his stomach, squeezing tight.  
"My sister is driving me crazy," he says with a wide gesture and almost knocks over the coffee in the cup holder, which huh. When did Jace even put that in there?

Shadowhunters.

"Your sister," Jace repeats faintly and looks out of the window Simon is rapping his knuckles against.  
"Yeah, she's... direct. On her best days. She isn't really a fan of," he waves his hand through the air, "mushy stuff."  
"So? I'm direct. You can handle me." Simon snorts. And regrets it immediately.

"Sorry," he says and sits up straighter, "sorry, it's just, no offense Jace, but you're not really _'direct'_ when you just say what people expect to hear from you most of the time."

Jace clutches his seat belt, so tightly that Simon is afraid it might rip. Damnit.

"I mean," he hurries to say, "you two are different. Plus, you're not my brother." _Thank god._ "It's always something extra with siblings, you know that." Doesn't he? Simon can only imagine, but Izzy always talks about Jace and Alec like they're the most mundane part of her life, so there's gotta be something there that resembles normalcy.

Jace huffs. "I guess." He's not turned towards Simon anymore. "Alec used to put Izzy and me in special time-outs invented by him."  
Simon smiles and it's surprisingly fond. "I can imagine that."  
"It didn't work very well, of course," Jace continues with his usual air of superiority. "Alec never could deny Izzy anything and I liked jump scaring him too much."

Simon laughs,the knot in his stomach loosening. "I would actually pay to see that."  
Jace grins, self-satisfied. "I haven't done it in years. There might be something overdue."

Failing in his effort to reduce his beam to a mild smile Simon makes a grab for his coffee.  
"Just start the car."

*

Simon flops back on Clary's bed in the Institute and groans. "He is the worst at this. Like, the actual literal worst. He barely makes progress, despite my awesome teaching methods and when he does he'll have forgotten it the next time."

Clary, standing next to her closet in her pajamas, stele ready to do her evening runes, frowns, as far as Simon can see from his upside down position where his head hangs off the bed. "Really? Because two days ago-"  
Simon pulls up his head and waits for the spots from the blood rushing out of his head. They don't come. "What?"

Clary does some humanly impossible bending motion with her whole body to reach the back of her hip.  
"No, it's, uh- Nevermind." She sucks in air hard when she begins to draw her rune. "Do you know what you're going to do about your financial analysis class?"

*

They're pulling up to Simon's house on a Thursday, when Jace's stomach growls. Simon stifles a laugh at this absolute mundane thing that is irritatingly endearing.  
"Do you want to come in to eat something?" he offers without thinking and looks at the light trapped behind the window of their living room.

Jace opens his mouth before he seems to change his mind and turns to look at Simon. There's a shrug and Simon has no idea how to interpret it, but when Jace opens the door and gets out wordlessly he waits impatiently for Simon to unbuckle his seatbelt and get out himself.

"What do you have?" he asks, while they're walking up to the house.  
Simon snorts. "I have no idea. I don't really keep up with human eating habits anymore." He fumbles out his keys and it takes him three tries to open the door, and when it does Rebecca is already standing there. Grinning. Dangerously.

When Simon first got Turned, he had briefly entertained the idea that his sister might have been a vampire all along. She has the kind of uncanny timing that might as well be superhuman.

"Hey, Simon! Simon's boyfriend." Simon rolls his eyes and ignores the sting in his heart when Jace tenses up next to him.  
"Hey Rebecca. This is Jace. Is there any food in the house?" Rebecca's ring knocks against the shelf when she turns to lead them to the kitchen, her cough suspiciously sounding like a laugh. Obviously she's been talking to Maureen. 

("He _wrestled_ you?" "I'm very speedy, there was no other way for him to get the keys." "So, he _wrestled_ you. To the _ground_." "There was no other- oh, you're terrible.")

"We still have lasagna." She looks at Jace in question, who shrugs. Again. Simon narrows his eyes.  
"He'll take it." He looks at Jace who... is he _slouching_?

He is.  
Jace's shoulders are slumped, his hands in his pockets and he's ducking his head like the ceiling is hanging right over his head, instead of it being a good seven feet of distance.

Simon flexes his hand and pulls out one of the chairs. Then he gestures for Jace to sit and almost chokes on air when Jace obliges, still wordlessly.  
Rebecca's eyes flick back and forth between the both of them, while she hands Jace a plate. The look in her eyes is strikingly curious and Simon _knows_ he's going to hear about this later. Then there's a smile tugging at her lips and before Simon can say, _No_ , she's already opened her mouth:  
" _Mom!_ " 

Simon groans and sinks into the chair opposite Jace. "I am so sorry." Jace looks at him and frowns. His eyes, though, Simon's stomach flips, there is actual panic there and oh boy, he is not equipped to deal with that right now.  
While his brain races over the hundreds of possibilities of what he could have screwed up in the last ten minutes, his mother steps into the kitchen, her smile widening at the sight of Simon.

She puts a hand on his shoulder when she stands behind him and extends the other one to Jace, who looks up and takes it. Musters up a smile. The panic is reduced to nothing but a crack in his exterior that Simon doubts anyone in this room recognizes but him.  
"Hello Mrs Lewis."  
"Call me Elaine." And just like that Jace relaxes into it and his spine straightens. Simon draws his eyebrows together.

_How do you make yourself so hard to read?_

-

In a suprising turn of events Rebecca and his mom don't make any overly inappropriate comments and neither do they get hung up on one of their conversation topics to start a loud discussion that Clary always happily engages in and that Maureen usually watches with a shit eating grin.

They cleverly sidestep the whole Shadow World issue (in thanks for which Simon squeezes his mom's hand under the table) and tell some of the more embarrassing stories Clary and Simon have both carefully forgotten about over the years (in thanks for which Simon kicks Rebecca under the table.)

After about ten minutes in their presence the tension has drained out of Jace's shoulders and another five minutes later he's openly laughing at Simon's misfortune on three different playgrounds at the age of three.

"I hope you're enjoying this," Simon tells him, his fork pointed at Jace. "When I bring you home tonight I'm asking Izzy what really happened in Atlanta that one time."  
Rebecca leans over, closer to Jace. "Don't worry," she whispers conspirationally, "Simon is truly _terrible_ at extracting information."  
He gives her an offended head tilt, but Jace is laughing and the bubbly feeling in Simon's stomach almost makes up for the fact that Jace is laughing _at_ him.

-

When they bring Jace to the door, Simon's mom tells Simon, "Don't be too loud when you get back tonight."  
He looks at her in confusion. "What?"  
She puts one of her hands between his shoulder blades and nudges him forward. "You said you'd bring him home. Better make good on your promise."

Rebecca nods seriously. "Wouldn't wanna send him home without _Simon_ protecting him."  
"Hey!" Simon exclaims, glaring at Rebecca while ignoring Jace's snicker and his mother's chuckle. "I make an awesome protector. When the... situation calls for it."

Jace takes him by the arm and leans in, the hairs standing up on Simon's neck when his body registers the proximity.  
"Sure you do," Jace agrees and pulls him towards the door. "Elaine, Rebecca, it was really nice to meet you. Have a nice night." 

Both of the Lewis women wave after them when they start walking down the driveway.

*

"Are you serious? You've never had to do this before?"

Jace looks at him across the aisle. "We get our supplies delivered to the house next to the Institute."  
Simon snorts. "Dude, that is so sad."  
"You're right," Jace shoots back with an eyebrow raised, "this is an experience I definitely _missed out_ on over the years." He holds up two packets of pads. "Hey, which one do you think your sister will like best to stop the blood flowing out of her?"

Simon nudges him in the side and mumbles a quiet, meaningless, "Shut up," while Jace tilts his head back and laughs and for a second Simon gets distracted by the line of Jace's throat. It takes another second for Simon to realize that it's not in the bloodsucking way.

Then the panic hits.

It slams into him without warning, into his unassuming heart, spreading out to his chest, stopping his ability to _breathe_.

 _Stupid,_ he thinks inbetween gasps, _stupid, stupid, you don't_ need _to. Calm_ down.

He can't. 

Because there's nothing to hold onto.  
There's no one to show him the way out.

" _Simon!_ "  
Jace is crouching in front of him, his knees inches away from Simon's, but he's not touching him and Simon can't find anything to focus on, it's all so far. Too far 

Distantly he registers his hand creeping over the floor, excruciatingly slow, until it reaches Jace's leg. Jace doesn't get thrown off balance, of course he doesn't, and what a stupid little detail to notice. Simon manages it to Jace's knee, then he inhales again, and he still doesn't know how to measure the amount of air being sucked into his lungs. 

There's a hand on top of his and another one forcing his chin upwards. There's Jace telling him to breathe, to breathe with him, and it works, it's almost as familiar as with Clary, Maureen, Rebecca, his mom, it almost feels like he actually _needs_ to breathe.

When reality comes back, all the items Simon knocked over are strewn about on the floor and he hangs his head between his knees with Jace still right there and it's almost alright.  
As long as he doesn't think about where the panic came from in the first place.

*

"So," Simon says, his fingers tipping away against the car door, "guess who paid me a visit at the hotel today?" Jace hums and Simon takes it as interest.  
"Lydia and that new Clave guy. You know, uh, Victor?"

Jace steps on the brake, suddenly, hard, and only his vampire reflexes save Simon from almost certain death.

" _Jesus Christ,_ " Simon barks when the breath is no longer knocked out of him, "what the _fuck_ was that?"  
"They came to the hotel? What for?" Jace's eyes are sharp against the light of the street lanterns.

"To ask some follow up questions about that one demon incident a few days back. _Why_ did you just almost kill us for that?"  
"Are you sure it was just that?"  
" _Yes_ ," Simon insists, "I spoke to them personally. They were pretty nice. That Victor guy? God, he's gorgeous."

"Sure." Jace braces himself against the steering wheel, his arm muscles flexing. "Did they ask about the church?"  
"No. Why would they ask about the chur-" Simon's eyes widen. "Oh. Oh! I _knew_ that wasn't legal! What the hell did you drag me into there?"

Jace rolls his eyes, but takes one hand off of the steering wheel and angles his body so he can look at Simon. "Relax. It's all well within Clave regulations." He grins. "Theoretically."  
Simon draws his eyebrows together and pushes his jaw forward to give Jace a patented disapproving look, ignoring the exhiliration in his stomach.

"There weren't any questions about churches." Simon reflects for a second before continuing, "They did ask me if I was consulted on any other missions."  
"And you said no. I would hope."  
"I said no."

The small smile Jace gives him response looks so impossibly fond that Simon's chest tightens and his mouth goes dry.

*

It takes Simon two weeks to work up the courage to ask. Two weeks of agonizing and enduring Clary's eyerolls and Maureen's snickering ("I'm sorry, this is just so high school throwback-ish funny,") and it all boils down to this:

"So," Simon says, _casually_ , because he can totally have chill around Jace if he wants to, "Save for your neackbreaking braking maneuvers that make you a certified menace to society, you've gotten really good." Jace chuckles, and doesn't look particularly bothered by the description, which should be worrying, but instead just stirs up the affection lingering in Simon's stomach whenever he's around Jace.

"I'm trying to say, that I have nothing to teach you anymore. You're now free to roam the streets in any stolen car you want."  
Jace's hands drop into his lap, his legs already drawn up and crossed so he can sit comfortably. "What about the van?"  
Simon squints. "What about the van?"  
"May I drive it?"

That gives Simon halt, hope blooming in his chest, irritatingly convincing. "I- I guess," he stutters and resists the urge to hit himself over the head to get his tongue to obey to his will. "But like I said, you're free. I'm not going to do anything about the whole crashing thing, don't worry."

"Right." Jace nods. "Simon?"  
"Yeah?" He looks up just in time for Jace to flick a finger against his forehead.  
"You're an idiot."

"Ow," Simon says, rubbing his forehead, and looks at Jace curiously. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Jace scoffs, and it carries the same deprecative intonation it always does, but he's not looking at Simon, staring instead into the space somewhere next to Simon's face, his eyes shifting erraticly.  
"Did you know that my father taught me how to handle a throwing dagger at eight years old?"  
"I did not," Simon says, on guard because clearly there's something coming.  
"I was able to hit the center of the target within two weeks time."  
"That's... impressive?" 

Jace laughs, silently, mockingly. Always with the mocking. "It is." Simon leans back against the window, ignoring the knobs on the door poking him. Jace sighs and rearranges his limbs so he can face Simon directly.  
"I'm eleven years older now," he says, like that's supposed to mean something.  
Simon draws his eyebrows together and scratches at the back of his neck. "I know," he replies slowly. He feels like he's missing something judging by the frustration reflected in Jace's eyes.

"Do you really think," Jace asks, "that I couldn't learn something like mundane driving in a span of two weeks?" He considers it for a moment. "Two and a half weeks, tops."

Simon's brain needs a second. And another one. His heart skips a beat.  
"Wait," he hears himself say, "you _knew_ how to do this the whole time?"  
"I'm a Shadowhunter, Simon. It's kind of what we do."  
"So you- wait, you just..." Simon drags in a deep breath. " _Why would you do that?_ "

He doesn't know what to feel. Mostly because he has no clue what this means. His hands can't keep still, he has to force them down into his lap, allows them to play with the hem of his shirt.

Jace shrugs. "I might have figured out that spending time with you wasn't the worst thing that could happen to my day."  
"That's because your days usually involve actual demons from a parallel dimension and a lot of twirling of deadly weapons," Simon snaps and looks up when Jace leans in with a tight expression.  
"No," he says with force. "That's not what it was. I quite enjoy a good demon from time to time."

His hands are braced against the box between driver's and passenger's seat and if Simon didn't know any better he'd say Jace looks ready to lunge.  
Simon gulps. "So what, you just suddenly decided you'd hang out with me? What for?" 

One second of silence. Two seconds. Then Jace groans, like this is the hardest conversation he's ever had to lead. To Simon it seems mostly just confusing.  
"You're infuriating," Jace tells him and that doesn't help at all.  
"Well, if you would just tell me what is going on, maybe I wouldn't need to be." 

Jace leans forward a little further. He's almost reached the level of closeness that Simon can't take without trying for a few calming breaths.  
"I like you," he says, like it has weight, like there's enough meaning behind the words to keep them from floating away. His knuckles are white from the tension in his arms but when Simon looks up Jace's eyes are soft like Simon's never seen them.  
"What?" he asks weakly, his voice shaky and too loud in the driver's cabin. 

"In fact, I'm pretty sure I'm in love with you." His voice is self-satisfied, like he's just accomplished a feat akin to climbing the Everest (which, now that Simon thinks about it, probably wouldn't be too much of a strain on a Shadowhunter.) His eyes, though, can't seem to agree on an emotion to display, going from fond to terrified to hard to an intense sort of vulnerability that Simon wants to capture and keep as a reminder for the realest piece of Jace he's ever gotten to see.

Except... that's unfair. The vulnerability is just as much a part of Jace as the cockiness, the fake attitude, the remarks, the intensity, the inherent frightening goodness and the clumsy tries at pop culture references he's started making.  
Every facet of Jace is not equally real, but they're equally present, making up a person that Simon thinks he could _love_ , that he's already fallen for.

A person that just told Simon he's in love with him.  
A sort-of-unbelievable fact that Simon can marvel at later.

Right now, he has more important things to do.

He meets Jace over the middle of the car, kissing him awkwardly - because wow, this really isn't the best place to do this - but genuinely, and Jace responds with an enthusiasm that would make Simon's knees go weak if he weren't using them to kneel on his seat. Instead it just makes the blooming feeling in his stomach grow and the lightness in his chest expand. 

When Jace bumps his head against the ceiling they pull apart. One strand of hair has come loose from where they're all gelled back. Simon tucks it back with a smile that makes his cheeks hurt.  
Jace looks at him, eyes wild and shining, one hand still between Simon's shoulder and his neck. "Wanna get out and do that again?"

"Hell yeah."  
They can talk later.

*

Two weeks later they're lying on the stretch of grass behind Simon's house, with no one in sight but them. Simon is leaning over Jace, shamelessly taking advantage of the fact that his arms don't get tired anymore. Like, at all. It's awesome.

Because as it turns out, Jace is a phenomenal kisser, just as Simon had feared. It's really a little bit unfair, he muses, until Jace scrapes his teeth over his bottom lip and effectively shuts down any coherent thought that might try to break through Simon's Jace-induced kissing haze.

Of course, it is possible that Simon is just a little bit biased, like Izzy has implied many times, and like Clary has flat out told Simon in a distinctly amused tone that Simon did not appreciate.  
So what, if he's biased? He can totally live with that as long as it means that Jace's mouth opens up under his like a constant plea for more.

In fact, Simon is pretty sure he could just do this forever and be okay with it.  
He could figure out what it means when Jace tenses up and shifts away from the situation, just a fraction. He could watch the awkward beginnings of conversations with Maureen with delight, ducking his head when a piece of bread flies in the general direction of his head because of his quiet snicker that only Shadowhunter ears can pick up. He could definitely live with Jace coming to run after a mission, so hasty in his wish to see Simon that he forgets to shower _or_ change. He could follow Jace to anbandoned churches and stand guard while Jace... 

Simon straightens up and Jace immediately tightens his hold on the small of Simon's back where his hand is bunched into Simon's t-shirt.  
"No," he objects, his eyes soft and dazed in a way that makes Simon smile without meaning to.  
"Yes," Simon says and his try to sound firm is undercut severely by his laughter bubbling up.

Because here is this boy, who is all kinds of things, but certainly not what Simon expected and he's looking at Simon like he's the goddamn _center_ of everything. There's a high chance that there's an accidental deal with the devil hidden somewhere in Simon's past. (But he knows, he wouldn't have wished for this in a hundred years which sparks an equal amount of reassurance and gratefulness in his chest.)

"You owe me an answer." Jace props himself up on his elbows, not minding his hair falling into his face. Simon momentarily gets distracted by the loose strands, tucking them back, just so they can fall right back out of line when Jace moves again. He gets a bemused smile for his efforts.

"What _were_ you doing in that church?"  
"Oh, for god's sake." Jace throws his head back and groans. "Are we still on that?"

Simon fiddles with the hem of his shirt. Jace sighs.  
"I was just running an errand for Magnus."  
"For Magnus?" Simon frowns. He wasn't aware that Jace and Magnus had... well, any kind of relationship outside of their connections to Alec. 

"Indeed." Jace grins his trademark grin, the one with all his teeth showing, the one Simon isn't a fan of at all, but finds hot despite himself. "To no one's surprise Alec isn't a fan of breaking the law and Izzy isn't a fan of having her dates interrupted to drive up to a cookie cutter neighborhood and raid a church, so Magnus called and told me that I could either help him or be responsible for you receiving the cheesiest love letters he could think of conjuring up."

Simon's eyes go wide.  
Jace's eyes narrow.  
The corners of Simon's mouth rise upwards.

"Absolutely not," Jace says.  
"Please!" Simon throws his head back and cackles. It's not an easy thing to accomplish when he's simultaneously trying to look as innocent as possible. "I would _love_ to hear all the cheesy things you have to say about me."  
"Not a chance," Jace reiterates, reaching out to keep Simon's arms still and lean closer. "You'll hear those from me personally." He tugs on Simon's elbow and Simon goes where Jace wants him to without giving it a second thought.

Five days later there's an envelope addressed to Simon in the post.  
In it there's a six-page letter.

Simon learns it by heart.


End file.
